


if the world was ending you'd come over, right?

by freefallvertigo



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: (yaz is somebody), Angst with a Hopeful Ending, F/F, and a hundred percent afraid to stand still, and gives the doc the hug she fuckin deserves, hello the doctor is clearly so very traumatised, so yea finally someBODY notices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:27:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22353340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freefallvertigo/pseuds/freefallvertigo
Summary: The Doctor hasn't stopped to catch her breath since she watched her planet burn. Again. Yaz alone sees through the cracks in her facade.(Set sometime after Spyfall Pt. II)
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Comments: 13
Kudos: 310





	if the world was ending you'd come over, right?

**Author's Note:**

> ik i should be working on the roadtrip fic however my hyperfixated brain listened to 3am by halsey and immediately found a way to associate the lyrics with 13 and so now this fic exists
> 
> title from 'if the world was ending' by JP Saxe

The Doctor burst through the door of the TARDIS.

Hearts unsteady and frantic, she bound towards the console, raking shaky hands through messy hair and releasing a trembling exhale. She gripped the edge of the console with white knuckled fists, looking down at her clothes. Dirt and blood clung to the fabric; to her skin. She peeled her coat off and tossed it over the nearest beam. It was fine, she told herself.

Blood had been spilled, but she'd just saved an entire planet from annihilation. She had single-handedly ended a war that had been raging for almost a century. Billions of people spared. 

Almost.

Granted, there was that one woman - and god, her blood had soaked through to her t-shirt, too. It was under her fingernails, smeared across her cheek. Maybe she'd start to feel better about her victory one she got clean. That was it: all she needed was a wash. A change of clothes. The relief would come after that. 

Retreating to one of the TARDIS' many washrooms, the Doctor scrubbed herself raw and as she watched the blood and filth circle the drain she disappeared somewhere inside of herself. Behind vacant eyes appeared the unmistakable vision of a world on fire. Her world. Her home. The broken citadel and the columns of smoke and the reek of death she hadn't been able to stop smelling for weeks. Here, now, it was so fucking strong. She retched and nothing came up. 

Grief, like a thing with unholy talons, clawed at her from the inside. It shredded whatever illusion of satisfaction she'd convinced herself she would be able to hold on to following another hollow success. Hollow, because it hadn't been _her_ people or _her_ planet she'd managed to save. No, she'd failed them. Again. 

And this - this fleeting win - it wasn't enough to alleviate that unending wrenching feeling in her gut. Why was it never enough?

Once the Doctor was clean (as clean as she was ever going to feel), she returned to the console. Hovering. Thinking. It was _way_ too quiet in there. Snap decision made, she made a beeline for the phone. Running through a list of memorised numbers in the hard drive of her mind, she contacted old friends, world leaders, Prime Ministers, the most short-lived of acquaintances. Part of her knew, of course, that it was wrong to actually hope there was some grave danger, some impending doom, for her to run towards.

But she _needed_ it. 

"Y'sure there's nothing at all, Madame President? Go on, think on it. Nothin' spooky fallen out of the sky of late? No holes opened up in the fabric of time and space?" As she spoke, the Doctor's fingers drummed her thigh. She felt like an addict craving a fix.

As if reading her mind, the TARDIS made an accusatory series of noises, prompting the Doctor to roll her eyes and turn her back to the console. 

"No, no, I'm sure there's nowt to worry about," the Doctor said, trying her best to mask her disappointment. "Just checking in, is all. Like to keep on top a' things. You know how-" 

A beep, and the line went dead.

The Doctor's jaw all but dropped to the floor and she stared at the phone as if it had just spat at her. "She hung up on me! The President hung up on me! I should be the one hanging up on _her_. Does she know that I'm technically still President of the World? What d'you think, should I call her back?"

Underfoot, the TARDIS rumbled and the lights glowed a discouraging red. The Doctor pursed her lips, arms folded. "Maybe you're right," she relented. "Right, well, that was a bust. Wonder if there are any distress signals in the local universe. Let's have a gander, shall we..." 

She swivelled the screen around, punched in a code on her keypad, and waited with folded arms as her receptors scanned and scanned and scanned. 

"Come _on_ ," she urged, resenting her desperation but having nobody to mask it for.

The radar beeped fruitlessly on and on as it scoured the universe for some kind of lifeline to toss to the Doctor. As it beeped, the Doctor continued to drum her fingers, and then a rhythm emerged. Four quick drumbeats. Louder and louder, still. The Doctor's palms began to feel clammy and her heartbeats tripped over one another in a race to her ears and she heard the Master's voice, loud as a bell, ringing in her head.

 _Everything you think you know is a lie_.

She switched the monitor off and staggered backwards, staring at the black screen and wiping her hands dry on her trousers. Paranoia crept up on her, pushed her to glance over her shoulder. Nobody was there. Obviously. And yet the hairs at the back of her neck stood to attention all the same, as if the TARDIS were playing host to a ghost - or billions. 

"Okay," the Doctor took a deep breath. There was one option she hadn't yet allowed herself to consider, because she had thought it selfish. Unfair. Except she was beginning to lose the plot and so she couldn't really afford not to be selfish at the moment. 

The Doctor skirted around the console, pulling levers, hitting a seemingly random succession of buttons, winding things up. The ship soon landed with a bone-shaking jolt. One last time, she picked up her mobile and called the first number on her speed dial. As the phone rang and rang, she chewed her lip and felt doubt - the old stowaway - make itself known. This was surely a bad idea. She didn't want to be a burden; what she wanted was to run. As far as the universe would allow her. She sighed, exasperated, and made to hang up the phone before-

"Doctor?" came a groggy voice on the other end of the line.

"Oh, Yaz! Hiya, it's the Doctor, which... of course you knew, 'cause you just said my name. Ah, I do like the way you say my name!" The Doctor stopped and pinched the bridge of her nose, frustrated. _Just be normal_ , she told herself. "Anyway. How are you doin'?"

"Hang on a sec," said Yaz. The Doctor heard rustling and what sounded like the flick of a switch from Yaz's end. "Is something the matter?"

"Oh, no, no, everything's brilliant. Never better, actually. A quiet day in the universe - if you'll believe it," the Doctor rambled, toggling a joystick absently as she talked. "I mean, seriously, not one distress signal for lightyears. When does that ever happen?"

"I dunno, not often?" Yaz wagered, precursing a pregnant pause. "Where are you right now?"

"Funny y'should ask, Yaz," said the Doctor, grimacing but not being able to stop the words from falling out of her mouth. "I'm outside your building! I know it's not our usual day, but-"

"You're outside? Right now?"

"Yes! Quick on the draw today, aren't we?"

There followed a silence in which the Doctor swore she could almost hear Yaz's deliberation through the speaker. "Give me a minute," she eventually said. "I'll be right down."

* * *

After five long minutes spent pacing the room and ignoring the taunts of her TARDIS, the Doctor finally spotted Yaz approaching on the monitor. "Right, normal. Normal, normal, normal," she mumbled to herself, spinning around to face the doors with a manufactured grin glued to her face just as Yaz stepped inside.

"Y'alright, Doctor?" she greeted, arms wrapped around herself. Her eyes roamed the console room as if she'd been expecting something more than just the Doctor.

"Hey, Yaz! Sorry to appear out of the blue like this, I'm sure you were very busy."

"It's three in the morning," Yaz deadpanned. "I was asleep."

"What?" The Doctor checked the local time on the monitor and slapped her forehead. "Oh, I didn't even... so sorry, Yaz. If you like, I can come back in the morning. The actual morning. You just hop off to bed, catch some Z's, I'll only be a second. Provided I do it right. Doesn't like short hops, does she?"

"I'm here now, Doctor," Yaz said, drawing towards the centre of the room. "So just tell me."

"Tell you? Oh! Of course. I really love what you've done with your hair," the Doctor enthused. Yaz's hair was down, for once. Dishevelled but not in an unpleasant manner. The Doctor reached out and took a lock between her fingers. "Have you just had it cut?"

"I've just rolled out of bed. That's not what I meant." Yaz stepped marginally closer. "You sounded strange on the phone. You sound strange right now. Something's wrong with you." The Doctor attempted to interrupt but Yaz held up a silencing hand and carried on. "Something's _been_ wrong. For a while now. Ever since that whole thing with the Master."

The Doctor turned around and circled to the other side of the central column, that Yaz wouldn't be able to see the dark cloud eclipsing her face at the mention of his name. "Dunno what you mean," she shrugged. "I just thought y'might fancy a spontaneous adventure?"

"Doctor, if you'd wanted to, you could have just piloted the TARDIS to our usual date and time," Yaz pointed out, following slowly behind the Doctor.

"Well, as I say, I don't always get it right."

"But that's not it. You didn't want the boys here. Why?"

If the Doctor was being honest, she'd have confessed that it was because the three of them together were way too perceptive and she wasn't sure she could maintain her charade around them all in her current state. She'd have said it was because Yaz was the only one she'd actually needed to see. Because when she thought safe, she thought Yaz. Every time.

All she actually managed to say, however, was "What's wrong with a little girl time, eh?"

Yaz looked disappointed and having her look at the Doctor that way amplified all her pre-existing guilt tenfold. Shoulders slumping, Yaz looked to her right, where her gaze caught on something the Doctor had completely forgotten to hide. Yaz frowned at it.

"There's blood on your coat."

"Paint," the Doctor denied. "Redecorated the games room. Ryan did say his favourite colour was red, didn't he?" She made a mental note to refurbish the games room before Yaz had the chance to poke holes in her lies.

Said mental note was quick to be discarded, because the Doctor was forgetting that Yaz was not the type to be so easily fooled. She lifted the coat from where it had been thrown so haphazardly and closely examined the garment.

"This is blood," Yaz surmised, absolutely sure of herself.

The Doctor's smile wavered. Oh, the pains of travelling with a copper. They were way too bloody observant. "Maybe. Who's to say? Look Yaz, no offence, but you look kinda tired. This was probably a mistake, eh? I'll just pick the lot of you up at your usual time. Go on, get off to bed."

"This is a lot of - where have you been? Where did you just come from?" Yaz asked, taken aback by the state of the coat. 

"Not to worry, Yaz, it's not my blood."

"Shockingly, Doctor, that doesn't actually do very much to quell my concerns." Yaz shook her head. "Don't you ever have a night off? Slow down? All this running around like an adrenaline junkie, there's no way it's good for you."

"Trust me, you haven't seen me when I've been forced to stand still," the Doctor countered, attempting to keep the tone light. "Now that's absolutely not good for me. Remember when all those cubes basically fell out of the sky that one time and just did _nothing_ for ages and then..."

The Doctor trailed off. Yaz dropped the coat to the floor with her back to the Doctor, and yet the Doctor was still able to make out the slow rise and fall of her shoulders as she sighed quietly.

"You said you were gonna start being honest with us." Yaz faced the Doctor, eyebrows raised. "When is that gonna be? A year from now? Fifty? Or was that a lie, and all?"

"Yaz," the Doctor said, and it was the first word she'd said that night lacking overtly forced cheer.

Her pretence began to wane.

"I want to know you, Doctor. _Really_ know you," Yaz said as she approached the Doctor. "Right now, you're still a total enigma. As cool as I thought that was at first, enigmas don't make for great friends. How can I help you, how can I be there for you, if you're gonna keep pushing me back every time I take a step forward?" As if to drive the point home, Yaz stepped closer still. 

"It's not like I enjoy keeping you at a distance," the Doctor admitted. 'I only ever want to protect you."

Sympathy softened the edges of Yaz's eyes. "Listen, you know that I-" Yaz stopped herself. She mulled something over, diverted the course of her speech. "You know that I care about you. Infinitely. But you've got to _let_ me. And frankly, you've got to start caring back."

"I do care about you Yaz," refuted the Doctor, hurt by the implication. Yaz had no idea about the extent of the Doctor's love for her and if only she did she'd never question her again. "You're my family."

"Okay," Yaz nodded, a reassuring half-smile forming. "So tell me why you're crying."

The Doctor blinked and a tear fell from the corner of her eye. "Oh, um. Sorry." She checked her pockets for a tissue and them remembered - coat. Other side of the room. Soaked in blood. It didn't matter anyway because then Yaz was catching the tear with her thumb and her warm hand was pressed flush against the Doctor's cheek and the Doctor's decision to call Yaz in the first place started to make sense to her at last.

She knew Yaz well, which meant that some part of her knew that she wouldn't be able to deceive her. Not now. Not when she was so lost inside of herself and her lifetimes of trauma. Yaz was intuitive, clever, and most significantly she was selfless. She was never not going to ask questions. Never not going to offer whatever comfort she could.

Which, the Doctor accepted, is what she was after. Not adrenaline, not explosions and black holes and nuclear near-misses. She needed comfort, and she needed it from Yaz.

"Tell me," Yaz implored again, gentle.

The Doctor pursed her lips. "Easier to show you, I think."

The Doctor set about piloting the TARDIS without any of her usual flair, walking rather than dancing around the controls, entering coordinates and navigating the vortex in total silence. When she pulled the final lever, the ship spared them any melodramatics. It took the Doctor where she needed to be quietly; solemnly. Like it knew. Which, in all fairness, it probably did. 

"Here we are," said the Doctor, standing beside Yaz and fixing her eyes on the TARDIS doors. The window glowed orange and red.

"Where's here?"

"Home," said the Doctor, clearing her throat to expel the pain from her voice. "My home."

"Gallifrey?" Yaz asked, and her palpable excitement felt like a sledgehammer to the Doctor's chest. "I didn't think you were ever gonna take us here."

"Go on. Take a look."

Smiling, Yaz started towards the door. She came to a stop halfway when she realised the Doctor wasn't following. "You not coming?"

"Think I'll hang back, actually. Nothing I've not seen before," the Doctor said, hiding her tightly clenched fists behind her back and silently willing her faltering nerves not to fail entirely. Not in front of Yaz.

"Oh, okay. Sure." Tentative now, Yaz reached the door, hand lingering at the handle. Slowly, she pulled it open.

An instant wave of firelight and the unerring intensity of Gallifrey's burning suns fell over her face and whatever excitement she'd been exhibiting was fast consumed - up in smoke like the rest of it. Yaz's dark eyes were ablaze as they searched the horizon. Her lips parted only to gasp in total horror. Then came that stink of ruin and death again. The Doctor choked it back and only just held it down. Her resolve was fraying. 

Yaz stumbled away from the door after one long speechless minute, yanking it shut behind her and pressing her back flat against it. Once she'd recovered from the initial shock, she peeled away from the wood and her glassy eyes found the Doctor's across the room. 

The Doctor could see that there were a million questions perched on the tip of Yaz's tongue. She asked none of them, which was fine, because the Doctor probably wouldn't have the answers anyway.

"Home, sweet home," she offered weakly.

"Doctor," Yaz breathed.

"I know," the Doctor whispered in return. "Before y'start asking questions, I can honestly say I don't know why this happened. I may know who-

But Yaz clearly wasn't interested in interrogating the Doctor; in having her explain herself. As the Doctor had launched into a reflexive justification, Yaz had crossed the room and hadn't slowed and before the Doctor knew what was happening she'd been pulled into Yaz's arms. For the first time in weeks, the Doctor's mind went quiet. 

At first, her hands hovered uncertainly in the air around Yaz, but then her brain rebooted, her body reciprocated, and she snaked her arms around Yaz's waist.

"I'm so sorry this happened to you," Yaz said, speaking the heartrending works into the crook of the Doctor's neck. "You must be in so much pain."

Opening and then closing her mouth, the Doctor found herself at a loss. She was so used to blaming herself that, naturally, she'd been expecting to have to defend herself to Yaz. To make it clear that she hadn't done this. Except Yaz never doubted that for a second; never doubted her good nature or expected her to apologise for who she was. The Doctor felt seen by Yaz. Truly and properly.

"I am," croaked the Doctor.

With a tear-choked exhale, she tightened her hold on Yaz, surrendering finally to everything she'd been feeling and pretending not to feel for so long. All the trauma, all the anger and the helplessness and the outright fucking heartbreak.

She felt it all crashing down around her like a falling sky.

Silent, the Doctor wept, and it felt like relief in the arms of this person whom she cherished so much and who gave to her, in that moment, the very thing she hadn't realised she'd been searching for among all that chaos the whole time.

And it was love, of course.

In the absence of hope, in the abyss of despair, all she'd really been craving was a little bit of love to see her through.

How lucky, that Yaz had so much to offer her.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr: freefallthirteen


End file.
